


I'll light the shadows on your face

by random_firework



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Codependent Winchesters, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Guilty Dean Winchester, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Mute Sam Winchester, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Non-Graphic Smut, Pining Dean Winchester, Pre-Series, Rape Recovery, Teen Dean Winchester, Teen Sam Winchester, Underage Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 19:06:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8172605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/random_firework/pseuds/random_firework
Summary: And maybe, I'll find outA way to make it back somedayTo watch you, to guide youThrough the darkest of your days





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Wincest Writing Challenge of September 2016. The theme was "School days" and my prompt was "Picture day."
> 
> The title and the summary come from the song Wherever You Will Go by The Calling.
> 
> CHECK THE TAGS BEFORE READING. Then enjoy :)
> 
> Traduction française: [ici](http://les-traductions-de-lau.skyrock.com/3284062694-J-eclairerai-les-ombres-sur-ton-visage.html).

Dean always watched Sam. It was his job. In fourteen years, he had looked away only one time. One time that was enough for everything to collapse.

 

It was picture day. Sam’s class was the last to have to line up for individual pictures. He had spent almost an hour in the motel bathroom that morning to get out of it with a scowl that made Dean want to grip him by the shoulders and shake him until he understands. Like every 14-year-old, his little brother was uncomfortable in his body. And yes, alright, he was still short and still had some baby fat. But he was beautiful. When he smiled, with his hazel eyes lighting up, Dean felt like he was looking straight at the sun. 

That’s what Dean was thinking about while he was waiting for Sam to come out of the gymnasium. He chased away the grin that had appeared on his face and the thoughts he should have felt guilty to be having and glanced around. His fingers were unconsciously tapping the hood of the car to the rhythm of the song blasting inside of the building.

“Come on, Sam,” he murmured for himself.

Dean had previously been waiting inside of the gymnasium for his brother but Sam had chased him away, because he wasn’t “a little kid anymore” – his own words. It was a while ago now. Most of his classmates had exited the room, if not all of them. Some kids that were hanging around seemed familiar to Dean but he couldn’t put a name on them. Sam didn’t seem to have any friends in that school. It was their loss. He was too good for them, anyway. Way too beautiful and smart to even be compared to those small town junkies. 

After half an hour of waiting, Dean headed towards the gymnasium with a sigh. Sam was probably nerding with the photographer about light exposition or stuff like that. 

The inside of the building was empty, except for the CD player now playing _Ice Ice Baby_ – this song would always give Dean the creeps, even in his elderly age – and the blue sky background used for the photos. No Sam. Dean’s blood ran cold. Something was wrong. He turned off the music and called out for his brother. No answer. His feet led him towards the locker room, soon running like his life depended on it. Or Sam’s life. Same thing, anyway. 

He heard the cries first. Harrowing calls for help, and his name called out again and again. He would never forget the desperation he heard in his brother’s voice. He would never forgive himself either. 

 

For nights on end, Dean dreamt that he had arrived in time. That a sick man hadn’t been thrusting in and out of his tied up little brother by the time he got there. But he arrived too late. Not too late to catch the rapist and hold him there until the police arrives; not too late to put him in jail for a good ten years. But too late to protect Sam.

Dean spent days wondering, too. What was the difference between him, who loved his brother a little too much, and a psycho who had found Sam too prettily doe-eyed to resist? Maybe he was sick as well and he should get away from Sam before hurting him too. But he couldn’t. Sam needed him.

Because Sam stopped talking after that day. He avoided touches too. The only person he would let himself be touched by was Dean. It was also the only word he would let out of his mouth – maybe the only one he could, in fact. Often a murmur, sometimes a scream at night, always the same. “Dean.”

 

Years went by. They grew even closer, if possible, Sam safely tucked under Dean’s arm, fit tighter with every inch he took. He became a full teenager in the blink of an eye, grew clever enough to be dangerous, strong enough to defend himself. He wasn’t mean, far from it. Alert was the word. His eyes, once so innocent, pierced the ones who dared looking at him too long. Except Dean. He was different with Dean. When they were alone together, his features softened, smiles lightened his face and Dean tried to make these moments last as long as he could. 

 

So was what eventually happened really that surprising?

 

Once upon a September night, Sam whispered against his neck, the tone and everything between them enough for Dean to understand. He didn’t question it, hold his brother closer as he answered his kisses and touches, growing more heated with every second.

In a moment of panic, Dean felt for the bedside lamp switch. He nervously brushed the hair out of his brother’s face. “You have to tell me that it’s okay, Sam,” he said in a voice he couldn’t recognize. And that was stupid, because he could feel Sam’s want and see it in his eyes, but he needed to be sure. 

Sam nodded and just that was enough for Dean, but he half opened his lips too.

“Yes.”

It was the quietest of sounds but it was one nonetheless, a word Dean hadn’t heard in his brother’s mouth since…No, he couldn’t think about that now. He swallowed the echoes passing Sam’s lips with his own and slid his hand on his lower back.

They made love that night. Tender, sweet, love. Dean did his best not to hurt Sam, poured his love in each of his movements, each of his whispers. He was shaking the whole time, shuddering at every blissful mention of his name. 

When it was over, Sam fell in Dean’s arms, a content smile slightly stretching his mouth. For Dean, after climax came guilt. His mind went back to that day he had failed to protect his baby brother from the big bad guy. Picture day. His guts knotted. 

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Sam straightened up then slowly shook his head with a frown.

“You weren’t scared, not at any moment?”

Sam reiterated his answer, more vigorously. 

“So you don’t regret-”

“Dean!” Sam took hold of his chin and locked his hazel eyes with his. A big inhalation lifted his chest up. “I…love…you.”

It was like air had been knocked out of Dean’s lungs. He looked at his beautiful brother for some time, wondering why the world had decided to make him so damn lucky. Then he breathed fully. If Sam could say these words after years of not talking, he could too. “I love you too, baby brother.”

Sam smiled and let go of his chin. “I know.”

“Alright now, don’t make me regret the time you didn’t talk,” Dean retorted.

His little brother rolled his eyes and settled in his arms again. Dean’s eyelids were heavy but he fought until sleep took him away and gazed at him. Sam’s voice was still hoarse and talking probably hurt like hell, but it was something. Something good was growing out of the ugliest moment of their life. He wasn’t gonna give up now.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Comments and kudos are very appreciated :)


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